


A Tale of Two Hawkes

by LudicrousLegacy



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Two Hawkes, Gen, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LudicrousLegacy/pseuds/LudicrousLegacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"okay okay okay but whAT IF. what if. My Tarquin met your Garrett. what if they were cousins or something and then there were tWO HAWKES GOING AROUND KIRKWALL. Double the headache for Bethany/Carver, Isabela insisting that they all have a threesome at every moment, Merrill getting whiplash trying to stare at both of them at the same time, Anders flirting back and forth with one then the other, and Fenris being twice as broody. And Varric of course writing "A Tale of Two Hawkes". am I crazy or not??"</p>
<p>Alternatively: what happens when mrasayf and I compare Hawkes. This is mostly crack but I hope you enjoy. Art by mrasayf (allahdammit).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Hawkes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrasayf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mrasayf).



> this all started because mrasayf made me art. blame her for everything.

Garrett raised an eyebrow and tilted his head at Varric skeptically. “Surely you can’t be serious.”

“I’m telling you, Hawke, there’s another Hawke here in Kirkwall and it’s not Junior.” Varric insisted, his hands laid flat on the table in his room at the Hanged Man. Garrett frowned deeply, but Varric went on. “Big tall guy, a rogue by the look of him, long hair and a beard, and of course,  a heavy enough smell of dog-stink that he can’t be from anywhere _but_ Lothering.”

“Impossible.” Garrett replied flatly, shaking his head. “Varric, surely you can tell that this is just some poor sod from Ferelden trying to ride my coattails now that I’ve made a name for myself in this place. Honestly.” He snorted once and ran a hand through his short black hair, frustrated now. “I know you mean well, but I’m very sure all the Hawkes besides my brother and I are definitely very dead right now.”

Varric looked as though he were about to protest, but finally sighed and gave his head a little shake. “All right, Hawke, if you’re sure.” He conceded, and Garrett found a smile for him. “Thank you, though.” He added, and Varric grinned. “I must admit, it would have been nice if at least one of my cousins had survived.”

“How many did you have?” Varric asked, as he gestured to Nora to bring up some drinks.

“Two.” Garrett replied, sighing as he took the seat Varric offered him. “My uncle Colin’s kids, Tarquin and Bethany. It was actually because of them we eventually managed to settle in Lothering.” A wistful smile crept across Garrett’s features as he began to remember them. “Maker, but Tark was a right bastard. He was the sort of boy that could put a worm down your shirt and then turn right round and offer you a sweetmeat with the most delightful smile. The girls _hated_ him.” Varric laughed, and even Garrett managed a chuckle. “Bethany was a sweet girl though…she uh…she shared my condition,” he raised his eyebrows, and Varric nodded understandingly, “She was Carver’s age, and they looked so alike everyone always thought they were twins, not cousins. My father trained us together, while my uncle trained Carver and Tark.” He went quiet then, murmuring a thanks to Nora as she slid a mug of ale towards him.

“What happened?” Varric asked, his voice kind.

“The bloody Blight happened, didn’t it?” Garrett said, scowling. “We got separated when the darkspawn took Lothering. Carver and I went to their house looking for them as soon as we heard, but by then it was already too late.” He grunted and took a large quaff of ale from his tankard. “Look, Varric, let’s just talk about something else, all right?” He asked, rubbing his forehead.

“All right, all right, Hawke.” Varric gave in, reaching for the ale pitcher and refilling Hawke’s tankard. “Just sit there and get drunk quietly, there’s a good boy.”

Hawke laughed gruffly and reached for his tankard, but paused when Nora came back into the room, a nervous look on her face. “Beggin’ your pardon, Serah Hawke, but…there’s somebody downstairs at the bar asking for you.”

“Nora, sweetheart, surely it can wait?” Varric said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. “Who is it?”

“A…gentleman.” Nora’s expression told Garrett everything he needed to know about what she really thought of the caller, and he grinned. “Is that all?” Varric prodded, and Nora shook her head. “Well then, out with it. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Claims that ‘is name is…well…Hawke, Ser Tethras.” Nora shrugged, biting her lip and looking away. “Says ‘e’d like to speak to you, Serah Hawke…‘Hawke-on-Hawke’.”

“Andraste’s sanctified ass, if I never hear the name ‘Hawke’ again it’ll be too soon.” Varric muttered, and Hawke looked positively murderous. “Who the hell does he think he is, this bastard? I’ll show him what it means to be a Hawke!”

Varric grinned and hopped to his feet, making a beeline for Bianca where she was resting in the corner. “Well, Garrett, looks like we have an impostor to take care of. So after you.”

“’E’s the one with the big knives on ‘is back.” Nora added helpfully, and Varric winked at her as they strode past.

Grabbing his staff, Garrett ran down the steps two at a time and wove his way through the dinner crowd to get to the bar. And there, just as Nora had said, was a great hulking giant of a man with dark red hair tied up into a ponytail, poking at a bowl of the Hanged Man’s famous stew with a disgusted look on his face.

“Well, Hawke?” Varric turned to his companion, but Garrett was already moving forward, tapping the man on the shoulder and forcing him to turn around. In a heartbeat, the man had sprung away, hefted one of the blades off his back, and pointed it at Garrett with a growl. Garrett in turn spun around, staff whirling through the air as he pointed it blade-end towards the rogue in front of him.

Varric wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, but the air around the two seemed to crackle with electricity, so sharp was the tension. Varric could feel the hair on his arms prickle and rise as the two stared each other down. Not much of the stranger’s face could be seen beneath the red bush that dominated it, but he didn’t seem angry. Neither did Garrett, in fact, as the rage was melting away from his face as fast as it had appeared.

“Maker’s balls,” Garrett breathed, and the man before him grinned, stowing his blade away with practiced ease. “Some things never do change, do they?” The stranger chuckled and pushed a lock of red hair back from his forehead, fixing Garrett with an easy stare. “I guess it really is you.”

“Tarquin?” Garrett blinked slowly, feeling as though the room had suddenly gone still. “Is it really you?”

The rogue grinned as Garrett’s staff clattered to the floor. “Hello, little cousin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Right so I have no idea how long this is gonna be and I only have the vaguest stirrings of a plot forming but I will see this through to the end I swear it :L
> 
> And Lolo, if you're reading this: HAY GURL I LOVE YOU ಠ⌣ಠ ♥ ♥
> 
> (I am a serious writer I swear)


End file.
